


Without the past

by Sunshine170



Category: Fringe
Genre: AU Fic, Multi, season 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshine170/pseuds/Sunshine170
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does she even exist anymore, the Olivia he knows and loves, he can't help wondering. Was there anything to go back to? Anyone to betray by staying here in this bar with Tess tonight and letting things progress towards the inevitable… AU for S4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He had never been a wallflower…

While his many less then scrupulous endeavors had taught him to be cautious, to dissolve into nothingness at the sight of trouble, to vanish… he liked the attention when it wasn't putting him in danger, liked the way in which he would manage to make an indelible impression upon someone...especially women.

Which is why, it was so hard to exist in a world where he felt like he was nothing more than vapor at times. It tore at him, the way the people he loved and cared about so much looked at him like he was a stranger. While the hostility Walter and Olivia had maintained towards him when he had first appeared was no longer there, the courteous working relationship that replaced it fell so painfully short of everything he had for the past three years.

He missed the familiarity that came with sharing a past with someone, which was saying something given how frequently and willingly he had uprooted himself time after time during the course of his youth.

How easily cutting ties had come to him once… and how he struggles to create even the flimsiest ones now.

The cosmos certainly had a way of messing with him.

Which is why when Tess Amaral walks into the same bar where he's staring at double shot of whiskey in a clear glass and attempting to elicit the deeper meanings of life as it were and takes a seat next to him, Peter can't help but smirk in the way he has become accustomed to every time his strange existence gets stranger.

As she orders her drink, he steals a look at her, trying to see, to ascertain how she might be a different person, how she might be somehow be 'other' than someone he once knew and had ( despite the fact that he had never actually admitted it to himself) loved and cared for.

_Trust you… I am not even sure I ever knew you…_

Were there any visible signs to having led a life untouched by him … he wanted to know.

She catches his eye on her, in that spooky way that women always can tell when a man's looking at them, casts a coy glance at him and gives him an approving smile.

And he can't help but smile back. Several thoughts run through his head at once and none of them seem to make any sense and he's not even thinking anymore, his mind pleasantly addled with whiskey and his self-confidence feeling reassured for the first time in several weeks because at least _someone_  is pleased to see him here.

He turns to her, wears his most charming smile and starts talking to her. Starts flirting with her if he was being honest to himself… no matter how wrong that  _should_ be.

Because he's tired, exhausted in every bone of his body fighting for scraps of recognition and kindness that Walter and Olivia can muster for him that are never enough and never good enough.

Not by a long shot.

He's tired of living without a past, of having people he knows not know him.

Predictably she responds positively, because who was he kidding, of course she would. It had come easily the first time around too- the laughter, the spark. And this time, he already knows what will make her like him.

Something to be said for unfair advantage, he thinks as he takes in the easy waves of her long blond tresses and the sparkle in her eyes, thinking how unlike it was the severe ponytail that Olivia always kept her hair in, or the quiet storm that bubbled under the surface of her green eyes.

No, Tess has a lightness to her which makes it easier for him to reconnect with her- even if she doesn't recognize him or thankfully remember how he just left her in the night one day. She's not haunted like  _her,_ doesn't have the same burdens and the more he talks and laughs with her, the more he feels himself relax and feel better than he has in days.

He forces himself not to dwell on other things, drawing instead on the happy times he had shared with Tess and they have in fact had plenty of those before things went downhill and he had fled from Boston.

Despite everything, for a brief time in his life, he had built something with a semblance of stability with this woman and it strikes him that if his sentence in this amnesiac universe that has purged every trace of him rendered him  _literally_  immaterial is permanent…

Maybe the least he can do with his disjointed life is build something with Tess again.

After all there is no threat of Big Eddie looming in the corner this time around, no abusive exes, no gambling debts left unresolved, no Walter to baby sit, no Olivia...

… A deep pain courses through his veins as he thinks about her, or unsuccessfully tries not to. Tries to quell the overwhelming feeling of guilt that eats at him as he thinks about the woman with whom he had shared a love that had transcended universes and whose present iteration can't feel anything more for him than barely concealed frustration.

Does she even exist anymore, the Olivia he knows and loves, he can't help wondering and the thought almost makes him sob. Was there anything to go back to? Anyone to betray by staying here in this bar with Tess tonight and letting things progress towards the inevitable… the two of them ending up in bed together.

He's not being cocky; it's just that he knows with certainty the explosive chemistry they can create together…Last time, it had taken them all of three hours of knowing each other to end up naked and entangled in each other's arms

Someone puts a song on the jukebox and Tess, unaware of the internal monologue has pulled him into a dance and he leads her into it without thinking about it, without betraying any of the internal conflicts that are running through him right now. He eases into the rhythm finding an odd comfort in her arms as they move together in an informal cadence and he remembers how he had danced with the other Olivia like this once in a bar. He hadn't known that at the time of course and it's completely fucked up that he finds that memory so pleasant and wonderful.

Because he'd believed with all his heart that he was sharing something mundanely romantic and normal with  _her_.

And once again, he thinks about the number of cruel jokes this universe has played on him and the punch line is always Olivia

He feels the soft way in which Tess brushes her hand against his arm and looks into her eyes and he knows that if wants, he can have her tonight.

Have  _something_ tonight, something more than memories of someone he loves … an actual experience that he can touch, sense and feel with a person who doesn't seem shadowed by anything else, wasn't burdened by the knowledge of their past together.

The song ends and another one follows.

He twirls Tess around playfully, pulls her closer and gives her a dazzling smile.

They continue to dance.


	2. Chapter 2

He ends up not sleeping with Tess that night…

Not because he couldn't, because it would have been a simple matter of asking, a question asked and a question answered.

He had seen the willingness written all over her face, a glint of desire that warmed her amber eyes, like liquid gold, the flush of her cheeks, hinting dangerously of things to come, of a deeper, more translucent afterglow that would bathe her in later hours of the night, inviting him to come and bask in that light too, experience a satisfaction his body and mind had not known for so long.

And Peter would be lying if he wasn't tempted to do just that. But he resists on acting on that particular urge for that night. He simply dances some more with Tess, laughs a lot more than he has in a very long time and at the end of the night, asks if he can see her again.

If she is surprised by that, she hides it well (which of course doesn't deceive Peter, because after all he  _knows_  all her tells). And even as he thinks, he might have lost out on the only opportunity to reconnect with her, Tess laughs and wordlessly takes his hand in hers and writes her phone number on his wrist and the sense of déjà vu that washes over Peter, almost overwhelms him.

_In the wee hours of that first morning, when she'd been curled up against his warm chest and Peter remembered thinking he hadn't even bothered to ask her what her last name was. Absently, he'd brought his hand to her hair and whispered softy, afraid of stirring her from her slumber- words meant for himself really and not so much for her._

" _I think I'd like to do this again… I think I like you,"_

" _I think I like you too..."_

_He hadn't really expected her to reply, he didn't even know she'd heard. But she simply turned towards him and took his hand in hers, "How good is your memory?" she'd asked him with a teasing smile._

" _Exceptional actually," he had teased back, intrigued by the note of challenge in her voice_

" _Well then, if you can remember this, we can do this again," she'd said softly as began to trace digits with her finger nail, leaving the softest indentations on his flesh that disappeared just as soon as she's made them. It occurred then to Peter that she was tracing her phone number on his wrist, and he couldn't help but chuckle and as he found himself committing her actions to his nearly eidetic memory, he thanked in that moment whatever combination of genetics made him the exceptionally smart man that he was,_

_She might have as well branded the digits into his flesh because he'd remember them for the rest of his life._

The number she writes this time around is a different one, but the action bears such a startling resemblance to the previous time that Peter can't help thinking that maybe this is a sign, that maybe he needs to move on..

That maybe he should stop looking for something that isn't there.

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

Some days, Olivia feels that there is a point when things just can't get weirder,

Gets too much…

And lately she feels that more and more. Like maybe, this pseudo-science universe that makes up her job and her life (the two of which are effectively interchangeable) is just so completely fucked up that nothing will ever maker her eyebrows rise in surprise again.

That point has long past, since after a man emerges from nothingness in the middle of a lake, claiming to have shared a life and a timeline with her once, claiming a legacy of rich and vivid memories of which when he talks about, she can almost taste them if she closes her eyes.

Even in that cold interrogation room, where nothing can possibly lend itself to imagination, his words make everything come alive, make her come alive.

And she can't help but want to believe in that moment, in the absurdity of it all.

Peter is an enigma and she has never really liked puzzles she can't solve. His blasé zen like quality about the conundrum of his very existence is unnerving to say the very least and it sets her on edge in a way that few fringe events have.

She knows that in some other reality, there exists an iteration of herself that he cares deeply about. He's admitted that to her and while she can't quell that wave of exhilaration that rises within her at the revelation, she doesn't reciprocate and tells him that in no uncertain but not unkind terms.

Because why on earth would she have feelings for a complete stranger.

Ever since she has treated him with professional cordiality and Peter to his credit has not asked for anything more. If he feels their partnership lacking in any way, he doesn't express that to her. But she catches him at times, staring off into space, lost in memories that obviously never transpired and it makes her heart ache in the worst possible way, which is something she really doesn't understand.

She wishes for him some kind of relief from the torment of a past that seems to taunt him so much, freedom to live in the present, unburdened and unencumbered by shadows of relationships that will never be.

She wishes it so much...

She finds him on a bench on the lawn outside the lab.

There is a dazzling smile on Peter's face, not the cocky grin that he wears so often after having delivered one of his snarky comments, but one that pulls at the heartstrings and reaches those impossibly blue eyes, striking a warmth and signifying a genuine happiness, a simple satisfaction with the events of the day.

She's never seen anything like it and she can't help thinking how beautiful a man he really is. And just as she can begin to get at the source of his happiness, she follows his eyes as they focus on a woman who is steadily making her way towards him, a pretty blonde who smiles at him with an expression, that Olivia knows all too well.

She sees Peter get up to greet the woman, sees him as he pulls her into a close embrace and then brush her long tresses to kiss her lingeringly on the cheek, give her a look that says more than words ever will.

She watches as the woman links arms with him and leads him away with her.

She takes it all in, the manner in which their bodies keep brushing up against one another, the ease of the woman's gait that Olivia would never have, the way she stops him before they get into the car by putting her hands on his chest and tiptoes to briefly but furtively lock lips with him.

And in that moment, she sees Peter's dazzling smile again and realizes that maybe he has found a way to break free of the past after all.

And the fact that it makes her want to cry, makes her feel inconsolable and betrayed in a way that none of the actual relationships in her life have ever made her feel, has Olivia thinking

Maybe there is a point when it gets too much after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Olivia rests her face against the coolness of the mirror, breathing deeply in an effort to calm down, to swim through the storm that is raging in her head in that moment. She tries in vain to forget what she just saw, before she bolted into the women's restroom.

Several unhelpful deep breaths later, she wearily looks up to gaze at her reflection; taken aback by how undone she looks…

_I was important to you, wasn't I? I mean, the other version of me... 'cause I see the way you look at me when you think that I'm not aware._

_Yeah. Yeah, she was. She is._

Apparently not _that_  important that she couldn't be passed over for a sultry blonde… Olivia thinks uncharitably.

 _This is ridiculous_ … she tells herself sternly;  _you can't feel broken up over someone who doesn't mean anything to you. Peter isn't …correction wasn't in love with you and you certainly aren't in love with him. That is some other Olivia. She's the one who gets to be mad… NOT you. Stop it._

Worse than the anger that's burning through her insides is the inexplicable sense of loss and betrayal that seems to be choking her heart with a steely grip and she doesn't understand any of it. Doesn't understand why she is in so much pain when there was clearly no reason for it. Doesn't understand why she feels like some part of her has died when she saw Peter look at that woman in that way.

The way he used to look at her…

_No no no… he never looked at you in anyway. He is a stranger whom you barely know, whom you didn't even like… though that's not really true now is it?_

She thinks back to the first encounter she had with Peter. How unsettled she had felt about seeing the apparition of her dream standing before her in the flesh, looking at her like he'd known her only all his life.

_What is the harm in letting me try?_

She never really did dislike him… not even in that moment when all she wanted to do was wipe that cocky smirk off of his face with a well-aimed sucker punch as he sat there on the table rattling on about the functions of the memory disks retrieved from shape shifters, like decrypting high-end tech from other universes was just something one casually dabbled in… like origami or knitting. Not even when she had confessed to Lincoln just how much having him around bothered her, did she actually dislike him.

No… of the veritable plethora of emotions Peter seems to stir in her, all of which excite and confuse her in a seemingly endless loop of contradiction, dislike is starkly absent.

She feels so much for him, so much towards him – intrigue about his paradoxical existence in a world that has erased all traces of him, genuine awe towards his extraordinary intellect, which like Walter's genius constantly strives for innovation and hovers on the edge of the impossible but is unencumbered by the latter's eccentricities and is grounded, almost enhanced by a roguish streak of street-smart, an undeniable attraction towards his physicality that she would be stupid to deny, at least to herself, attraction which has her often straying into thoughts that she shouldn't be having.

_Like how it would feel to run her fingers lightly through the stubble on his chin or press her palms up against his chest, falling into an embrace that would feel as old and familiar as time, to be pulled by his lips into a soft kiss- gentle and unassuming, one that didn't take as much give._

And Olivia inhales sharply because she suddenly realizes she knows exactly how each one of those experiences feels like. She has no specific memory of having done any of those things, no picture seems to pop into her head and yet, she _feels_ , knows how it feels to be kissed by Peter Bishop, knows how it's supposed to feel to be engulfed in his arms, her smaller build molded into his larger frame, knows that its supposed to feel this right…

This perfect…

And before Olivia can steel herself, before she can leave all that is hurting her behind in this restroom which has been her refuge so many times before when she has needed to lose her calm, she gives into a single tear, a poor tribute to a loss that seems to be growing sharply by the second.

Unbidden, his voice echoes in her ear and though she can't remember him saying it to her, has no context of a memory within which to situate it, she feels the depth of his words

 _I've seen what the two of us look like and it is beautiful_ …

The richness of his baritone is awash in her consciousness, and she can't help but agreeing.

She can't even see it, but Olivia knows it's beautiful.


	4. Chapter 4

Olivia sees the two of them again a few days later when she's at the vending machine outside the lab.

They're walking down the semi-dark hallway of the basement, hand in hand right outside the lab, completely oblivious to her presence or anyone else's. It helps that she's practically hidden in in the shadows because of how poor the lighting is. She wants to turn away but she feels frozen in time and space, unable to think or move but stay in the shadows where she can be unnoticed and simply take in the sight of Peter, his eyes light and happy as he shakes his head at a question she seems to be asking.

"So you still won't show me where you actually work?" The woman's asking him now, her hands resting on his chest.

"I told you this is where I work."

"But this is a hallway. You can't work in a hallway Peter."

"No but it's close to where I work, and I can't actually show you where I work. That's classified." He's grinning at her, pulling back an errant lock of her hair behind her ear.

"Sounds shady and unscrupulous if you ask me."

"I never said I wasn't either of those things." He tells her, his voice low and dangerous with a hint of flirtation.

"No I guess you never did. In fact you never tell me anything about yourself and yet you always seem to know things about me, things I like, things I don't like. Things I don't recall ever telling you about."

"What can I say; I am just freakishly good at guessing. It's a gift." He jokes, but Olivia sees the way he gets suddenly uneasy at her statement. The way his eyes, waver just a little bit, before finding their blasé composure again.

But the woman doesn't seem to notice and simply tiptoes to pull him into a kiss. His eyes close in visible pleasure as he leans into the woman's mouth, moving his lips leisurely, almost expertly as his hands thread through her long hair in a gesture that feels all too familiar.

It hits her with intensity- a flash, a vision…. a fragment of experience of touch, smell and sight

_Hey. Thanks for meeting me._

_Is this why you asked me to meet you across campus and not at the lab- so that we could make out in front of college kids and not your dad?_

She gasps as the images whirl in her mind and it's enough for Peter to register a third presence, his eyes widening as he locks eyes with her.

He breaks the kiss abruptly, looking more than chagrined, almost guilty.

And Olivia can't help thinking that he  _should_  feel guilty.

"Olivia…" He begins, looking thoroughly out of words for the only time she's known him

The woman turns around to follow his gaze her eyes landing on her, a little curiously though not unkindly. She gives Olivia a hesitant smile.

Olivia finds herself unable to drag her eyes away from Peter, who's looking at her utterly lost, and also a little surprised.

Like he's finding a reaction on her face that he hadn't quite anticipated

"Friend of yours?" the woman finally asks Peter, turning slightly towards him, after a couple of seconds have passed, breaking through his apparent stupor.

He clears his throat… "Oh yeah, of course ummm. ….. Tess this is Olivia," he says pointing vaguely in her direction. "She and I work together." He adds after a second, almost like an afterthought.

 _Work together…._  She feels like she wants to uproot the vending machine and hurl it towards Peter. She feels like doing any number of insanely violent things to him in that instant, and her anger is almost amplified at his next statement.

"Olivia, this is Tess. She's a friend." He says evenly.

_Obviously the kind of friend you play tonsil hockey with._

"It's nice to meet you, Olivia." Tess smiles at her, offering a hand and Olivia takes it on autopilot, offering a hesitant smile of her own, not letting on the thousand different emotions running though her mind.

"Hi…" she says a little shakily, trying not to do any more than get through the next few minutes, trying not to give away how badly shaken she was at this encounter.

Because that might lead to questions and truth be told she really didn't have the answers.

"So you're Peter's colleague? That's great. Do you think you could actually tell me what he does for a living?" Tess asks her, leaning into Peter, her head resting against his chest. "He's always so vague. I swear, I am almost a little concerned." She jokes. Peter looks painfully uncomfortable.

"Oh… its... its nothing untoward I promise you," she manages to stumble out, thinking to herself that she'd spontaneously combust in that moment.

Because every brush of skin between them is burning her up in unadulterated agony.

Tess is looking at her like she's waiting for the next part of a sentence, another piece of information from her. When she finally realizes that it's not forthcoming, she simply shrugs. "Well I''ll take your word for it." She tells her, turning her attention towards Peter.

"Thanks for lunch but I have to go now. I'll see you tonight?" She's asking him and all Peter can do is nod at her.

"Great." Tess smiles at him, laying a quick peck on his cheek and he leans into it, giving her a small smile himself.

"Bye Olivia." She hears her say, before Tess is turning around making her way out of the building, her high heel boots making a distinct clicky sound against the floor. They're stylish and edgy, just like the rest of her attire.

As the echoes of her boots fade out, Olivia turns to meet Peter in the eye, who still looks like he's trying hard to find some words to explain…

"We should get inside. We have a lot of work to do." She tells him before he can start to talk, swiftly making her way into the lab where the presence of other people will prevent it from happening.

She doesn't want to hear him explain because she doesn't think there could be any explanation for how she feels. For how she's been feeling for the past week. For having these intense emotions that make so little sense to her.

She wants to rationalize.

More than anything in the world she wants to find a logical explanation for what she's feeling.

Is she jealous? She asks herself. Is it simply the fact that she feels a deep physical attraction to Peter, a first for her since John died, and seeing him with someone else is making her feel bad?

It may not be very mature. But she is human after all and even she is not above succumbing to a thoroughly trite fit of good old fashioned female jealousy.

Because it's undeniable how beautiful Tess is, how right she looks next to his own exquisite physicality. The spontaneous chemistry she shares with Peter is all too evident for anyone to see. It crackles between them, in the brief banter she overheard, in the constant touching, in the way they kiss.

God, the look on his face when he was kissing her, Olivia finds herself biting back a sob as the vision plagues her senses again.

The uninhibited pleasure, the thoroughly sexually charged contact of his lips with hers, and the end of it all, the smile on his face that really makes her feel wrecked, decimates her at her very core.

She's never seen Peter like this in the months that they have known each other now, this side of him. He's smooth with people in general and that's almost glaringly evident, but this – the suave charm and the playfulness, the effortless way he has with Tess.

It's like a revelation and she can't help wondering… Was he like this with her?

Probably not. Men like Peter didn't woo or flirt with a woman like her, someone who couldn't find it in herself to appreciate such charms anyway. You needed something in your DNA that was unhindered by the weight of the world to be able to react positively to such a strain of pursuit, to smile and laugh wholeheartedly at a joke and make one of your own, to be able to dive into a spontaneous kiss in the hallway of a basement simply because you felt like it.

No, being with Olivia was work… hard work without a tangible payoff at that. It meant putting in a lot of effort to coax a hesitant smile, to reconcile to being second to an all-consuming job, to having little come to you by way of time or affection, to find yourself stonewalled repeatedly against a vault, a vault that protected her fundamentally broken core.

And if this other version of herself is even a little like her, then she can't really blame Peter for giving up on her.

After all who'd want to be with someone like that, who sucked the energy out of you like a black hole…

Especially someone like Peter who seemed like he was made entirely of sunlight.

She tries not to think about the disturbing vision she had earlier, of the two of them, kissing in a crowded corridor, a memory of an experience she didn't have. It's the first time, she's seen actually seen a clear image of the things Peter had told her about, even as her mind has been assaulted with a tide of unfamiliar emotions for the past few days.

The woman in that vision looked so happy… Olivia thinks wistfully, that she can't even believe she's the same person as her. It seems almost implausible. Her alternate from the parallel universes was for all purposes a different person. She looked like her but that's really where the similarity began and ended.

But the Olivia from her memory… Peter's Olivia is hauntingly familiar to her. She feels like her, in every way.

Except Peter doesn't look at her that way at all. The way he was looking at her in the flashes she had.

The way he looks at Tess now.

She feels that she needs to worry about what's happening to her, the way her mind seems to be playing weird games with her, the soul wrenching emotions that she feels every time she thinks about Peter.

But she has no one to turn to. She can't tell Walter because that would lead to a conversation about what's triggering these happenings…

She can't tell Peter or even verify with him if the things she's seeing and hearing and experiencing in fact happened. No matter how much it seems to be getting to her, the fact that Peter seems to have put behind his past with her is good for him and she can't take that away from him by telling him…

Because truth be told, she had nothing to give him in place of what she'll take away from him.


	5. Chapter 5

There is a warmth enveloping her body, a languid slow heat that's achingly familiar, just like the scent that's tingling her senses as he moves over her, into her, pushing and pulling in measured strokes, taking and giving in movements as old as time, invoking torturous sweet pleasure with every thrust.

She turns them over, so that she can be on top, bringing his hands with hers over his head in a coy, yet seductive move. She's smiling now.

_I love you. Do you love me?_

_I do_

_Then tell me. I want to hear you say it_

_I love you._

* * *

Olivia wakes up with a sharp gasp, her heart pounding as she struggles to breathe, hands fumbling at her sides, grasping the edge of her mattress, needing to feel something solid.

It takes her several long seconds to calm down, to regain some semblance of control over her own body and mind which are still reeling from the sensation of her dream.

Could anything that felt so astonishingly real be even described as a dream, she wonders. She can still feel the sensation of slightly calloused palms caressing her body gently, the touch of his skin against hers, his warm lips on hers. An intense ache coursing through her being, a distinct lack of…something which she doesn't know but misses so badly …..and as she sits up and draws her legs closer, she becomes aware of the very real wetness between her thighs.

And while Olivia is not unfamiliar to the concept of a sex dream, she knows that her body's reaction is not simply a response to the stimulation of some mental fantasy, but to the actual experience, which is so tactile to her that for a moment she feels vaguely confused about her own presence in her bedroom, as if her waking up to this reality was what was really odd.

_I love you._

The way Peter had said it to her, the strength of those words. They overwhelm her with their very intensity, and she closes her eyes as she tries to revel in that.

It's almost like she knows what it's like to be in love with him.

It's almost like she  _is_  in love with him.

* * *

"Do you want to come inside for maybe a nightcap?" Tess asks him, as they stand in front of her apartment building. Her eyes are looking at him with soft warmth and Peter knows the invitation is an allusion to much more.

"Hmm, tempting, but I'll have to pass. Have a really early day tomorrow at work." He says.

"Right the super important secret job that you won't tell me anything about?" She shakes her head at him.

"That's the one." He laughs, pulling her closer for a kiss, a much longer one than what he'd been going for.

"You know if I didn't know any better, I'd have to think you have no interest in sleeping with me." She whispers against his lips, as she puts her arms around his neck and leans in a little.

Peter pulls her closer to his chest, his hands finding her waist "And what would give you that idea exactly?" His voice is light and playful, but her statement makes him uneasy.

"Well the fact that we've been seeing each for each other over a month now and this is the third time I've asked if you wanted to come upstairs and you never seem to want to." She points out, not in a way that suggested she was particularly unhappy, but just surprised.

"Would you believe me if I said I was old-fashioned like that?" He asks her, once again trying to make light of the situation, as he brings one of his hands to caress her cheek slightly, as he presses a kiss to her ear.

"Not even a little bit." She shakes her head, laughing a little bit. "Which is what makes this all the more puzzling."

"I just thought we could take things slow. Is that not okay with you?" He asks, his eyes wavering a little bit.

"No, it's more than okay with me." Tess tells him softly, bringing a hand to his stubble, as she runs her fingers through his chin, as she cocks an eyebrow playfully. "It's just… you don't really strike me as the take it slow kinda guy Peter. I always figured you for someone who liked to play it fast and loose."

_Nothing changes with you, huh? It's the same old Peter, you just play it fast and loose until it's too late._

It doesn't miss him, how perceptive she is about him. Even though she doesn't know him the way she used to in the previous timeline, Tess still sees through him in so many ways that it amazes him. She had really been the only one who had the ability to do that to him besides his mom and later ….Olivia.

"Well looks can be deceptive." He tells her, trying not to show what was going through his head. "And if I didn't know any better, I'd have to think you're the one who can't wait to jump my bones." He teases her.

She laughs and doesn't say anything, but Peter knows that she's aware that something is holding him back from taking this step with her.

"How about this? Friday night, I'll make you dinner at my place and you can find out what kind of guy I really am." He tells her. "Now I am not going to give anything away, but it would be wise to pack a toothbrush."

She looks at him with a little surprise, before smiling. "I'll do that then, thanks for the heads up." She laughs and then pulls him for another lingering kiss.

"Thanks for a great night." He tells her, before letting her out of his embrace.

She turns towards him before making her way through the entrance, looking at him in a slightly odd way. "You know, you don't have to say that every time…. like I am doing something spectacular for you by spending time with you."

"Good night Tess." He simply says.

"Goodnight Peter."

* * *

Peter doesn't go home after he sees Tess off at her apartment. He simply walks around the city streets for a long time trying to make sense of his feelings.

Being with her was so easy. He had forgotten how ridiculously easy it had always been. They had the most natural chemistry. Like wick to flame and apparently differing timelines were not a variable to that at all.

They always could make each other laugh and he has come to appreciate that gift they share a lot more than he did before. It's effortless to be with her, like playing the piano.

And she makes him feel like he can belong in the place that was doomed to be his home for the rest of his life.

And yet, even though he's given up on making it back to wherever he's been displaced from, understood the harsh reality that there was nothing to go back to.

He still can't let go of Olivia…

The look on her face the other day when she'd seen him with Tess. He's seen that look on her before…. when he'd told her about what had happened with the other Olivia.

A look of feeling betrayed… and he doesn't understand it one bit. She's not the same woman he knew, she doesn't have any feelings for him and she's been categorical about that on more than one occasion.

And yet she had looked at him with a kind of pain that only he would recognize and it's disconcerting.

He doesn't even know how he can talk to her about it. There was really no prudent way to ask her if she had an issue with him seeing Tess because really what would she say to a question like that?

Either she'd clock him over the head for assuming she cared one way or the other what he did with his life and with whom or….

Or what really?

He pushes aside thoughts about Olivia and focusses on Tess and the step he is about to take with her. It's an important one and he can't help feel like he's deceiving her. Deceiving her about the truth of who he was, about the things he knew about her already, about the life they've shared once before.

Deceiving her by still being in a love with a woman who no longer exists.


	6. Chapter 6

"That smells heavenly…" Tess, appreciatively inhaling the tempting aromas coming from the pot of sauce that was simmering.

"It's a special recipe…" Peter tells her, handing out a spoon for her to taste. "A chef in Tuscany taught me how to make all these wonderful treasures of Italian cuisine, recipes that had been in his family for over a century."

"And what did you do for him?" She asks, taking a bite out of the spoon he was holding for her, sighing in enjoyment. He knew she would love it… because he's made the same meal for her many times in the past.

The past that hadn't transpired.

"I worked as a farmhand on his vineyard." He tells her, reaching out to wipe a little bit of the sauce that was on her chin.

"Seriously?" She cocks an eyebrow at him.

"Seriously…." He nods. "He was just lonely, had no family to speak off. He wanted to pass on his knowledge to somebody… and for some reason, he took an interest in me, treated me like an apprentice of sorts. Taught me about winemaking, cooking…. seducing women…" He grins.

"I doubt you needed any help with that." She tells him laughing, as she leans forward to kiss him. "I mean the fact that you can cook like this alone….. Wonder what other secrets you've been hiding from me Bishop?"

"I am also skilled at origami." He tells her with a cheeky grin and she just giggles helplessly against his lips, pulling him into another kiss.

They're standing in his kitchen, watching over a pot of pasta boil and chopping up stuff for a salad. There is jazz playing in the background and a most delightful Cabernet that they're sipping through leisurely.

All in all it's a perfect evening. Until of course Peter accidentally knocks the wine glass on the counter causing Tess to spill wine over her dress.

She looks down to the red spirit slowly staining her dress and then meets his gaze, with a shake of her head and a smile.

He can't help but chuckle too.

It's the kind of clichéd trick he would never pull… ever.

He's never really needed to.

"I swear that was not on purpose." He holds his hands up in a sign of innocence.

"And I believe you." She tells him. "Especially given that you don't have to do something like this. Tonight's pretty much a done deal."

He laughs at her candor. He's always loved that about her. They were really very alike in so many ways…

"And yet, as insidious as I may sound, I believe I should ask you to change out of that dress. Don't want you to catch a cold now do we." He gives her a grin of his own.

"Oh we definitely don't want that." She shakes her head emphatically in a teasing manner. "Though more importantly I think I'd like to get the stain out of my dress before it's completely ruined." She says casting a worried look over the deepening stain which she was dabbing at now with a paper towel.

"The dress over your health… ever the woman of style." He comments sardonically. "Though I can't argue, it is a great dress." He runs an appreciative eye over the flattering figure hugging garment that she had on. It was a beautiful shade of plum that complemented her coloring really well.

Olivia would never wear that color…. which was a pity because she would look truly sensational…  _Stop thinking about her_. He tells himself sternly

"Do you have something I could change into?" She's asking him now and he extricates himself from his thoughts.

"Umm yeah. Why don't get cleaned up. I'll bring you something to wear. Bathroom's upstairs, second door to your left." He tells her, pointing in the general direction of the staircase.

He follows her upstairs to his bedroom a couple of minutes later, making his way to the closet. He fishes out a pair of his sweats and an MIT shirt he had bought a few weeks ago. It's not old and faded like the one he used to own, but he still finds it comforting in an odd way.

Peter knocks on the bathroom, setting the clothes down next to the floor. "Tess, I've left you some clothes to wear alright." He tells her and hurries back downstairs to tend to his dinner.

He busies himself with making the meal that he had promised Tess tonight, giving himself some time to collect his thoughts in the process.

This evening has been progressing just like he'd expected it to go, despite the little incident. He can see it in her eyes. She anticipates tonight to lead towards more. He does too; he wouldn't have stopped by at the pharmacy after work if he didn't.

He's prepared… but he still doesn't know if he's ready.

There's still that pang of longing that refuses to go away. That feeling he has assigned the name of Olivia. The one that has stayed with him for over three years now.

 _Forget it… you're never getting her back. It's time to move forward_. He tries to tell himself.

And he knows that that's an inevitable truth he has to accept if he ever wants a shot at a life.

Not even a happy life, because he's known true happiness and he knows he can never really have that again…. but just a life.

He'd almost reconciled himself to this, except for the fact that something's been different about Olivia these past few days.

He could be imagining things, but he can swear that he's caught her looking at him a couple of times. And not in a way that had made him feel like she was scared and threatened by his presence.

But as if she knew him. Like really knew him…

She also seems strangely angry at him off late. A streak of latent displeasure that bubbles to the surface every now and then.

Blink and you miss it. But he can tell, knowing her as he does, or at least as he used to.

Once upon a time, she would have come to him. Trusted him enough to talk to him about whatever was bothering her.

Even before there was a romantic relationship between the two of them, she had turned to him, in little ways at first but more so later on. It was strange the way that came to be, the bond of trust they had unwittingly forged.

He had never thought of himself as particularly trust-worthy, but she must have seen something in him, something he had never seen in himself.

But then she had always been able to see him for more than he had been.

And for her, he had wanted to be more...

_Stop going down that road Bishop. It's a dead-end._

With a renewed zeal that he isn't convinced he truly feels, he goes about setting the table for dinner, lighting a couple of candles. He wants this to go well.

He  _needs_ for this to go well…

He looks with satisfaction at his handiwork, giving himself a congratulatory nod, when he hears a knock on the front door. He's surprised, in all the months he has lived here; he hasn't had a single visitor except for Tess tonight.

He's even more surprised to find Olivia at his doorstep, hands in her coat pocket, standing there in the same way she had a few months ago after that case they'd worked in Brooklyn.

Its déjà vu all over again and his heart lurches painfully at the memory of that beautiful night.

"Olivia? What are you doing here?" He asks genuinely puzzled by her presence.

"I… I don't know actually…." She looks hesitant, almost scared.

"Is it a case?"

"Umm… no it's not a case. It's… I needed to talk to you." She tells him slowly, sighing. She looks confused herself, like she wasn't really sure what she was doing there at the moment.

"Okay…" He nods, not really understanding, but unable to be not affected by her apparent state of distress. "Would you like to come in?" He asks her, motioning for her to walk in, as she closes the door behind her.

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, waiting, looking at her expectantly to say something.

For the first time he's known her, any version of her, she doesn't get to the point and simply stands there awkwardly in the hallway….looking at the floor and not meeting his eyes.

"So what's up?" He finally breaks the silence, not sure what she was looking for. He gives her what he hopes is a comforting and an encouraging smile

She gives him a hesitant smile of her own, looking at him with gratitude before breathing in deeply. " Aah… this is really hard for me to say Peter, but something's… something's been happening to me these past few days and I am just, I have to know if…." She stops, as she eyes focus on something behind him.

"If?" He presses her to continue, following her eyes to the dinner table that she was staring at.

She looks at him, like she's about to ask something, when he hears footsteps coming down the staircase.

"Peter, you're sweats are way too long for me. I think I'd trip if I tried to walk around in them…" Tess is saying as she makes her way downstairs, wearing only his shirt.

She halts in her steps when she sees Olivia, her face crinkling in confusion and then at Peter, a micro frown on her face.

Olivia looks back at her, her expression completely frozen.

"Olivia right?" Tess says smiling; looking a little self-conscious like anyone would do if they were half-dressed and found themselves in the presence of a stranger.

"Yeah…" She nods and then meets Peter's eye, looking at him with an incomprehensible expression. "I am sorry Peter; I didn't know you had company. I'll leave you alone. "

"But you said you needed to talk…"

"It can wait. It's nothing important really." She averts her eyes and turns to Tess. "Sorry to barge in your evening." She moves away hastily, walking out of the door before he can say anything.

Peter looks at Tess, his expression mirroring her confusion.

"What was that about?" She asks him.

"I don't know…" He shakes his head at her and then moves towards the door, knowing he had to go after her. "I am sorry Tess."

He's out before he can hear her call out his name.

"Olivia wait…"


	7. Chapter 7

_Stupid…._  she berates herself, struggling to keep the tears from spilling out of her eyes, as she squeezes them tight, batting them away with the back of her hand and all kinds of mad at him, and that woman and mostly just herself.

What was she thinking really… going to his house tonight? On a Friday night. Of course he would have  _her_  over, and make her a romantic dinner and give her his fucking shirt to wear… because…..

 _Oh God…._  Her stomach lurches with a sick but familiar by now feeling as flashes assault her again of the many times, she had seen Peter in his MIT sweatshirt.

* * *

_Where'd you learn that? MIT?_

_No actually, I picked that up reading books. You should try it sometime. It's fun_

* * *

_Hey._

_Hey_

_I didn't wake you, did I? What?_

_Cute. Except in my case, I actually graduated. I'm guessing, uh, you bought yours to impress the girls._

_Yeah, more or less._

* * *

She sees herself clutching that shirt and crying brokenly in front of the washing machine and she's gripped with a sorrow so intense, that she has to stop in her tracks to ride it out, afraid she'll double over if she moves.

"Olivia wait…" She hears his voice behind him and she begins to walk again, not ready to face him. But he catches up with her in no time.

"Olivia…" He's in front of her now, looking perplexed and then when takes in her tear streaked cheeks, concerned. "Have you been crying?"

"It's nothing… just I have to go…" She moves but he stops her, laying a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Wait, please. What is going on with you?"

"What do you care?" She says furiously, feeling even more agitated with his concerned expression. "You should go back to your date. I am sure she won't appreciate you running out on her like that."

Almost like he's left that genius brain of his back at his house, he misses her sarcastic undertone entirely. "She'll be fine. Right now I am more worried about you." He says softly, releasing his hold on her though. "Liv, will you please just talk to me?"

_Liv…_

"Don't call me that." She hisses, moving away from him, feeling her heart lurch painfully at his use of the familiar mocker. "Who told you can call me that."

"I am sorry I forgot…" He says nodding apologetically, realizing what he had just done.

"Yeah you forgot. You forgot everything didn't you." She looks at accusingly. "I am not her. When are you going to get that? I am not her." She says, her tone wavering when she sees the pained look on his face.

"I know you're not her." He says quietly then, looking like he's almost been slapped. "Believe me, I know that."

"Then why are you here, acting like you care about me?" She almost shouts, not caring if she was making a scene. "Why do you keep looking at me like that, like you know me better than anybody else? You don't get to do that. You don't get to walk into my life and hijack it with your memories of someone else. I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of this."

"Wait what?" He looks almost stunned at her outburst. "What memories? What are you talking about Olivia?"

She's silent for a moment, not able to look him in the eye.

"Olivia please…"

"Your memories... Peter." She struggles to not cry, her voice defeated. "Or hers, your Olivia's…. I don't know." She shrugs. "I just keep remembering things. Of the two of us… you together. Things that never happened to me and they've been getting stronger and I've just been going out of my mind trying to understand…"

"You remember us?" The question is hopeful and heartbroken in the same vein as he looks at her, his face so conflicted in that moment that she doesn't quite know what to say.

"I remember you with  _her_." She says icily, composing herself and he flinches then like she had struck him. "And I have no idea why this would be happening when I am not her. And I came to see you tonight, hoping you would be able to give me an explanation."

"But clearly you have moved on, so I guess this is not your problem anymore is it Peter?"

He simply stares at her in silence, not saying anything, his face almost immobile.

"Guess she wasn't that important after all huh…."

She begins to walk away from him and this time he doesn't stop her. But she turns back after she moves away a little to look at him where he was standing, still frozen, not even looking at her, his gaze fixed on something invisible on the street.

As she turns around and moves further away, she doesn't know who's the more brokenhearted of the two of them that night, in this private hell of memories that they had unwittingly been thrown into.

What kind of love does this to people she thinks. She has felt the happiness that was his like it were her own and now she can feel the sadness that envelops him, like it was slicing right through her.

Who was this Olivia, she wonders… the memories of whom are intertwining with her own, whose essence still lingers here in this world where she doesn't belong, whose love for this man was making her feel anger for a betrayal that wasn't even done to her, making her heart feel a level of pain that she didn't even know she was capable of feeling.

_I thought I was important to you..._

_He's not yours_ , she tells herself again, stifling the sudden urge to run back to him and bury her head in his chest.  _He doesn't belong to you._

She walks faster, almost running, afraid her resolve will weaken and she'll turn back to where he was, still standing there fighting his own demons of guilt no doubt.

_He's not yours…not anymore._

The tears start running again.

This time she doesn't stop them.


	8. Chapter 8

_Fuck…_

_Fuck with a cherry on top_ , thinks Peter, as he makes his way back, navigation is more mechanical than cognitive, neurological pathways formed through repetition, which is why he makes the short walk home without registering his surroundings even just a little bit.

There has to be a special place in hell that resembles his life. A twisted, acerbic pocket in Dante's inner circle, where the heretics and the treacherous burn in eternal suffering.

As do the dimensionally displaced apparently, that special class of con men turned time-travelling wave sync machine wielders who reach into the future and change the past.

What is this sickness inside of him that renders him so incapable of not hurting her over and over? This defect in his foundation that seems to make a special target out of Olivia Dunham's heart and rip it through a shredder.

Without meaning to, without wanting to, when really he'd rather cut off his own arm, do anything but that….

He seems to have a knack for screwing her life up royally.

And this time, all he did was stay away from her.

He doesn't even want to think about what this means for him now, the added complications this brings to his already rather pathetic existence.

He won't, won't get his hopes up. He won't grasp at straws and he won't rejoice the fact that his obliterated love story was resurrecting itself with a vengeance in the head of a woman who life has already screwed over badly.

To be robbed of your past, your memories, your identity, it's not a fate he would wish upon his worst enemy, let alone Olivia, no matter which one she was.

He reaches for the door, bracing himself, knowing what waits on the other side, a dinner now rapidly cooling and a  _girlfriend?_  sure to be looking for an explanation.

_"Sorry honey. An iteration of the love of my life just told me she's beginning to remember memories of a timeline which was erased. You don't mind if we don't bang tonight do you?"_

He wonders if St. Clare's does walk ins?

 _Don't mess this up you idiot._  A snarky voice in his head tells him.

 _Don't push her away now_   _after working so hard at getting over Olivia. Just because she remembers things, doesn't mean she's your Olivia._

_You'll be left with nothing in the end if you go chasing after her again._

_Fuck,_ he curses again, before going in.

Tess waits for him on the couch, limber and unperturbed and wearing nothing more than a smile, his shirt, a polyblend pile on the floor.

"I prefer a late dinner." She sips from her wine glass coolly, looking at him with a languid gaze, the candles casting a warm glow on her newly exposed skin.

"Don't you?"

He swallows… hard, suddenly feeling cotton mouthed and virginal, laughable a notion if there ever was one.

Olivia's wounded eyes flash before him, accusing him of a betrayal he didn't intend to commit.

Last time, this time.

There's a pattern in there somewhere and this is his chance at breaking it.

He can severe the link this time. Throw the baby out with the bathwater and shut the door firmly on that gaping hole in his heart that refuses to heal.

Olivia will never forgive him.

Every and any chance of redemption lost.

Good…because this is the last time he breaks her heart. This is the last fucking time he'll mess things up for her.

Tess sets the glass on the end table, and motions with her eyes.

"Come here."

He smiles and somewhere inside his heart, a splinter turns slowly.

He's getting laid tonight if it kills him.

* * *

Three glasses of whisky; neat… and she still can't unsee the sight of Tess's endless legs peeking out from underneath the MIT shirt, making their way down those stairs, or the broken look on Peter's face.

Olivia hiccups, trying in vain to stop the silent tears that seem to have a sentience of their own tonight, as she clutches her pillow tighter and reaches for the bottle a fourth time, forgoing the tumblr altogether.

The confrontation should have made her feel better, should have helped her clear the fog, should have at least given her the reassurance of being able to separate herself from these alien memories and feelings.

After all she did scream at the object of her misery on a sidewalk for good measure, give him a piece of her mind.

Where was her catharsis? Her emotional release?

She feels cheated.

She feels worse if possible. The wretchedness growing in her with each passing second.

Her feelings for Peter only seem to get stronger and its becoming harder, to separate what she feels from what the phantom that has taken residence in her mind feels.

She can't even tell anymore if the disappointment of tonight is hers, or the others.

And the more she becomes a vessel for a love that was never hers to begin with, the more she feels overwhelmed by it, consumed, eviscerated.

She hasn't been in so much pain since John died in her arms.

A note card with a piece of writing flashes in her mind.

_He still has feelings for her._

Scratch that, she hasn't been in so much pain, period.

This won't do. No this won't do at all. She'll go mad this way.

This needs to stop. She has to make it stop.

She reaches for the phone resolutely.

"Walter. It's me. I need to talk to you."


End file.
